Temptation on Ocean Drive - Jennifer Probst Page 0,70

Latoya asked a few other basic questions, then clicked off her phone. “Thanks so much. I’ll email you if we decide to run a piece.”

She offered her hand and they shook. “A pleasure. Our main concern is always the clients. We just wanted Adele to have the perfect wedding.”

“Looks like she did.” Latoya grinned and disappeared into the throng of people.

Bella subtly glanced at her watch. Thank goodness. The night was almost over, and she was ready to crash. Half an hour left to avoid a disaster and retire this wedding into the books.

Needing more water, she headed to the bar where standard cocktails would be and caught sight of Gabe. He stood with his back to her, broad shoulders thrown back in an almost defensive posture. As she got closer, she saw a pretty blonde in a tight snow-white dress pressing against him. Diamonds dripped from her neck and ears and wrists like icing. Her hands were stretched out in front of her, palms running up and down his chest.

Horror mounted at the intimate position, but then she realized Gabe was trapped between the bar and a chair, effectively cornered.

The blonde’s head tilted up. It looked as if they were about to kiss. “I thought it was your job to give me the favor I wanted,” she was saying, her speech a bit slurred.

He gave a small laugh, then grasped her hands to push her gently back. “Ah, and you did get a favor that’s quite special. It’s on your table. Didn’t you like it?”

“Not as much as I like you.”

Suddenly, another woman joined them, obviously the blonde’s friend. She sidled up, her hip touching the blonde, completing the threesome. “Who’d you pick up, Kelly? How do you always manage to find the hottest men at these things?”

“Ladies, I’m going to need to check on Adele, if you’ll excuse me.”

Gabe tried again to get himself loose, but the women refused to move.

“This one’s mine,” the blonde declared, running a hand over his biceps and squeezing. “He’s my favor for the night.”

The friend joined in on the action and put her hand on Gabe. “I want one, too.”

“Get your own.”

“You can share.”

Bella closed the distance, grabbed the blonde by the arm, and firmly jerked her away. “Excuse me, I need to talk with my associate.”

The blonde gasped. “You shoved me! Who the hell are you, anyway? We were just getting to know each other.”

Gabe stepped out of his corner and back into safe, open space. “Sorry, we have a crisis to take care of. Our apologies.”

He began to move away, but Bella stood her ground, shooting the women a cold glare. “Next time, make sure your physical advances are wanted by the other party.”

“Hey, you can’t talk to us like that!” the friend declared. “We’ll get your ass fired, bitch.”

Bella gave them a tight smile. “Since the wedding is over, we’re past that. But I think if I explained to Adele that the staff was being accosted while trying to remain polite, she’ll be on our side. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

Without waiting for a response, she stalked off with Gabe at her side. Then noticed Latoya watching the entire exchange with open interest.

Ah, shit.

Chapter Fifteen

She’d defended him.

The thought spun in Gabe’s mind as they walked inside the hotel and headed to the elevators. There were two ways he usually reacted after a wedding: either he was exhausted and craved to crash in bed to catch up on sleep, or he was jacked up and ready to party. As he stared at the silver doors, he realized it would be a long time before he was calm enough to settle in. Ah, well, maybe there was something decent on television.

“Hey, do you want to get a drink in the bar?” Bella asked.

Surprised, he turned his head to gaze at her. She looked hesitant, shifting her weight back and forth, as if afraid he’d say no.

He smiled. “I was thinking the same thing. Sounds good.”

The bar was modern, with sleek black-and-red touches, and half-empty at the late hour. They picked a low red couch with plump pillows and accent tables on the sides. The lighting was dim, and low lanterns illuminated the lounge, casting her in shadow. A guy dressed in a suit with a fancy glass jar sat at a piano, playing familiar tunes.

The waitress came over. “Drinks?”

“Yes, please. One Stella. And . . . ?” He looked over at Bella.

“Extra-dirty martini. Tito’s vodka. Straight up, chilled. Shaken, not stirred.